The Lost Princess
by Treenut
Summary: Based off of Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians, this story features Norah Milway and her quest to find Persephone, the lost princess and Demeter's daughter.


Chapter 1  
>There's a Minotaur in the Bathroom<p>

Most of the time, I could cope with my ADHD and dyslexia. But the moment my best friend shed her pants, my world was completely out of wack.

I had finally made a truce with my disorders. Not only were my teachers starting to finally understand my problem (slightly), but my disorders were even improving slightly. You can call it 'my imagination', but I think it's true.

Still, my life had a few problems.

Let's start with the fact that I've gotten kicked out of four schools in my lifetime. I didn't _transfer_, I was _kicked out. _There's a difference. And I didn't get kicked out like a normal kid. Naturally, I had to do it with style.

My experience with school was at the Academy of the Abnormal. That ended after I called Mrs. Crabapple a word that my mom later washed out my mouth for (with _ivory_ soap, may I add!). It promptly caused antlers to sprout out of my English teacher's scalp. She was rushed off to the hospital and no one has heard of her ever since then.

My second attempt at education took place at Candlestick County Public Elementary School. It was cut off short after a school bully called me a 'piece of turd' after I stole his lunch. I was so fed up, so angry, that the grass somehow reacted with my feelings and strangled the kid. Teachers got out there soon enough, however, to dislodge the spluttering fifth grader from the now-mobile vegetation. Of course, they found a way to blame me for the grass' actions. Is it just me, or are you seeing a trend here?

My third and fourth tries weren't any better, both almost resulting in fatalities. I was tired of getting kicked out. I was tired of getting bullied. I was just about to burst… when my friend shed her pants at the perfect time. What can I say? Isn't that what friends were for? Pssh! Totally!

Her name is Aspen McKelway, and she had been my friend every since the Academy of the Abnormal. Somehow, she followed me through elementary school and into my first year of middle. She had ADHD, like me, and, additionally, a disorder in her legs that required her to have crutches and sit out during P.E. class. Every time I got kicked out of a school, she was, for some reason, blamed as well. So we were, you could say, partners in crime.

Now, let's go back to the present.

Aspen and I were sitting in my bedroom doing homework. Once a week, my dad let her come over to help me. We had convinced him that she helped me calm my impulsiveness, and he had finally given in.

I was stuck on my English homework as always (stupid dyslexia). The words just wouldn't stay still and, trust me, chasing your English homework like a herd of sheep isn't fun.

Aspen, however, had already finished and she was staring at me with sympathy.

I ripped my homework in frustration. "Why?" I mumbled. "Why does it have to be me?"

"Don't worry, Norah. Someday it will all make since."

"You say that every day!" I said, my voice shaking with anger. "_When_ will it make any sense? Can you tell me_ that_? An hour? Next week? In a year? When?"

"Look, let's take a break and play a game of 'Truth or Dare'," she sighed.

I obliged. My homework was in shreds anyway.

"Truth or dare?" she asked me.

"Truth," I answered, not very motivated to take a risk.

"Alright," she said. "Here it goes: If a friend's life was in danger, and you could sacrifice yourself instead, would you do it?"

"Nice one," I replied.

And it was. I had a sudden picture in my head of Aspen tied up to a pole, flames licking at her feet. She was screaming, 'Help me, Norah! If you jump in the fire, you could put it out and I would be saved! Sure, you'd become deep-fried, but that's your problem! Yay!' I shuddered at the thought.

"Well, because I will not be held to this—I hope—my answer is… I would sacrifice myself to save friend," I replied.

"Oh why thank you!" she giggled.

Suddenly, there was earth-shattering growl, followed by a girly scream that belonged to my dad.

Aspen and I raced out of my room. I was just about to dash into the bathroom when Aspen shouted. "WAIT!"

"What?" I said. "What could possibly be more important than—"

Then she shed her pants.

"Holy cow!" I gasped.

"Holy goat is more like it," she said.

Yep, from the waist down my best friend was goat: complete with furry hindquarters and cloven hooves. I lost my balance and fell over, hitting my head on an antique dresser.

"Goat—" I mumbled. "My best friend is half goat!"

"Norah! Your dad—"

That was enough to bring me back to my senses. I scrambled back onto my feet and pushed open the door to the bathroom. Immediately, I screamed.

For there, standing on the toilet was a bull-man dude. On the shoulders of what should have been a man, there was a gruesome, hideous bull's head, snarling at my father, who was cornered in the shower. The worst part: the only clothing the monster had on was a mere loincloth.

"Is this a relative of yours?" I called to Aspen.

Normally, she would've scowled at me, but given the circumstances, she let it pass. "No, it's a Minotaur—you know, from Greek mythology."

"Yeah," I said weakly. "_Myth_ology, it's supposed to be a _myth_."

"I'll explain later," she waved off the question. "Right now: kill it."

"Er… How exactly do we _do_ that?"

"Good question."

Then, Aspen went into ninja-goat mode. She jumped in the air, higher than any regular human should've been able to, and shot her hoof at the Minotaur's ugly face.

I got an idea. "I'll be right back!" I yelled at her. She was riding on its shoulders now, and, if my life hadn't been in danger, I would've laughed.

I abandoned the bathroom and flung open the doors of an antique wardrobe. Inside, displayed ever so perfectly on shelves, were rows of porcelain plates. Grabbing as many as I could carry, I ran back into the bathroom.

Aspen was giving the Minotaur a run for his money. She was off his shoulders now, and was bashing it with the showerhead, making it slightly dazed. However, it kept swiping at her, and although she took a few lucky dodges, I knew she couldn't keep going for much longer. I chucked the plate like a Frisbee. It shattered as it collided with the Minotaur's chest. Shards flew in all directions.

But the Minotaur barely noticed.

Man, this guy had tough skin. I'd recommend some Mary Kay, but I think he'd rather tear people to pieces.

I tried to think. I threw a few more dishes, but with the same result. Meanwhile, my dad was whimpering in the corner, pointing at the Minotaur and occasionally whispering, 'Cow… cow…'

Suddenly, it came to me.

I darted towards my dad's room. There, above his antique dresser, was an antique Samurai sword. I clutched its wooden handle and wrenched it off the wall with all my might.

I guess I should explain all the antiques.

My dad was obsessed with them. He travels the world buying antiques. I would say that it's just a hobby, but it's more than that. He's obsessed. He even opened an antique store downtown. Over the front door is a sign that reads: New Antiques Made Monthly. For years, I have been convincing him to replace it, but he refuses to see the irony in that.

Anyway, back to destroying a blood-thirsty beast and saving the lives of my best friend and dad before they become lunch.

I would love to say that I heroically burst into the bathroom and sliced the Minotaur in half as epic music played in the background.

Instead, I could barely hold the sword. Either it was really heavy, or I was a weakling. Probably the latter.

I scrambled out of my dad's room, passed some more antiques, and hurried back into the scene. I was shocked to see Aspen slung over the tub. I prayed that she was just unconscious, and, hopefully, not dead. But I didn't have much time to worry about her.

The Minotaur was waiting.

My reflexes kicked into high gear. I felt hyper and powerful. The sword grew suddenly lighter in my hand. I gave it a test swing and positioned my hand on the handle. Finally, I was ready. I swung the sword.

I didn't hit the monster, but did succeed in knocking out the door handle. It clattered onto the tiles. I plucked up some more courage and swung again.

This time, I came closer to slicing the dude's chest open, making it quite irritated. It sprang upon me and before I could realize what was happening, he had me pinned down and trust me, he didn't smell any better up close. The odor was a strange mix of old toilets and baby food.

My arms were pinned down. I was helpless. Great; I've always wanted to have front row seats to my own gory death. I was just thinking to myself, _What a stupid way to die…_ when a loud crash sounded from the bedroom, like the window was being shattered with a hammer. Two seconds later, another creature pounded into the room. _Great, _I thought, _another beast. Just what we need._

But without warning, I saw a sword shish kebob the monster's chest, grazing my middle. The monster gave a ghastly groan which I was sure the neighbors would hear. Then, it burst into gold powder and drifted away like smoke. I could see what just saved my guts. It was a half-horse dude. (What was up with all these half-breeds? The latest trend? I wouldn't be surprised.)

But something about him didn't intimidate me. I wasn't scared of him. He stood there watching me, then picked up his spear and held out a hand to help me up. Once back on my feet, I ran over to Aspen and my dad. My dad was still conscious, though still muttering, 'Cow… cow', but Aspen wasn't as lucky.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. A Minotaur, in my bathroom. I knew perfectly well that that Minotaur belonged in mythology, not reality. It was a killing machine. And how come no one else has ever run into a maniac bull-man or peaceful horse-dude? I'm sure that would've made the news.

"Aspen?" I called. "Can you—Are you—"

"She's not dead," said the horse-man. "But we need to get out of here. Fast."

"Ohhh-kaay," I said. "What about my dad?"

"Cow… cow…" he muttered.

"He's… ah… a mortal," the horse-man said. "He probably didn't even see the Minotaur for what it was because of the Mist."

"Mist?"

"It's a veil, so to speak. It covers mortal eyes so they can only see what their brains can process. So, your dad probably just saw a devil cow, by the sound of it."

"COW!"

"It's best we wipe his memory," he said.

"What?"

"It's best we wipe his memory," he said.

"I heard you the first time," I said. "It's just—can you explain who you are and what's going on here?"

"No time. We have to leave before the Minotaur's buddies arrive." At that, he pulled out a small vial full of frothy pink liquid. "Slip this in your dad's mouth. He'll forget what happened and... well… Norah, you know it's for the best."

"What is?" I asked, though I already knew. I didn't even care how he knew my name.

"He'll be stressed for the rest of his life. He'll have nightmares and visions and—Norah, a Minotaur and a mortal mind don't mix. There's no other way," he said.

I walked over to my dad, who was still muttering about cows. I uncapped the cork of the vial with a small _pop._ I convinced him to drink the liquid and he obliged. I watched as he passed out then turned to the horse-man, who had just slung Aspen over his back. I took one last long look at my dad, for I knew that even if I managed to come back some day, he wouldn't recognize my face.


End file.
